Men of Snow
by QueenCelestiaxyv
Summary: "I mean… there's someone I have a crush on!" The Canadian's cold cheeks impossibly got redder as he admitted it aloud. "But I don't think he knows I exist…."   Oneshot


_Men of Snow_

**Author:** Queen Celestia

**Note:** This was my first piece of the new year. It was inspired by Ingrid Michaelson's song of the same title.

His hands were cold from the packing, his fingers burning with the cold.

The ground around him was littered with long channels of disturbed snow in crisscrossing patterns.

With each push, however, Canada knew that he was closer to his goal.

The ball rolled forward, the snow packing on until, when it reached a specified size only Canada could determine was correct, the rolling changed direction to the two other snow spheres mounted atop each other.

Grunting, the third sphere was placed atop, before snow was packed in around the crevices to make sure that all were secure.

Blowing on his hands, he wished he hadn't lent his gloves to America all that time ago, gloves that had been 'promised to be returned ASAP!'.

That had been about two months ago.

The sticks were carefully placed, jutting out as if initiating a hug, before carefully, the two dark rocks were placed as eyes.

It took a while of digging around in his pocket, but a small gnarled carrot was produced for the nose, and small rocks lined up to create a smiling mouth.

Standing back, the artist admired his work, before, with a sigh, cold hands reached up and removed the red and white toque.

"You look like you need this more than I do eh." Came the mutter, as the hat was gently placed upon the snowy head.

Soft puffs of breath encircled the snowman's face, the Canadian so close it was almost as if the snowman himself was breathing.

Flopping down into the snow beside his creation, Canada stared up at the crystalline blue sky; the snows cradle a soft hug.

"You know, I'm pretty pissed that no one remembered me this year."

Came the beginning.

"I mean, heck, I sent out all my gifts and cards on time… I mean, once it was clear that no one was going to invite me to dinner."

Violet eyes looked over to the grinning snowman, softening, as the other seemed to be patiently listening.

"Hell, I've been alone for so long I think I'm going to go crazy – well haven't I? If I've made a snow man to talk to…"

The man looked away a little ashamed to say it out loud.

"Kumatata ran away when the ice got solid… worried about that. The ice has been taking longer and longer to solidify. I hope he gets enough to eat. Well, I wish it was like how it was, where the ice froze when it should. I hate to think of those fuckers going through the passage as if they owned it, and then, pretending they're doing the checks they should be doing, but oh no! Here comes another fucking oil spill, and oh look, did we just kill off all of your Arctic wild life? Well it's obviously not our fault! There were no laws protecting it, since the fucking Canadian politicians were too fucking timid to fucking stand up for themselves. Speaking of which, have you read fucking NAFTA?"

The Canadian sat up excitedly, and looked at the snowman as if there had been a reply.

"Hell! Any of the trade laws! America can fucking SUE MY GOVERNMENT if my government wants to protect Canadian rights! What the fuck are the politicians doing? Fucking America only believes in free trade when he benefits from it. I hate America so much I just wish he would fucking disappear or blow up or – Well."

The Canadian suddenly back tracked, looking around guiltily as if the trees were getting ready to whisper his words of rebellion back down to the States.

"But I guess… America…. Is ok sometimes… but…. I try to make sure he doesn't pay too much attention to me so he doesn't interfere…. I mean that's best right?"

Canada waited, staring at the snowman as if for some confirmation, that his tactic was alright, totally acceptable to employ.

"Heck, I get mistaken for him so much…" came the mutter, "Don't know why I bother to exist."

Reddened fingers made divots in the snow, before saying, "Well, the people I guess. They are proud to be Canadian, it's just the back door deals with the CCCE and the rich businesses and the politicians screwing me over I guess."

A sigh, before adding with melancholy, "Did you know that ever since the FTA, my economy has done worse each year? The promises were all shit. Take my advice, and don't sign a phoney trade agreement ok? I should have seen through that bastards phoney too white smile. Probably not his real teeth either."

After a few more moments of silence, there was added, "Probably won't return my gloves either. I just don't get why he likes to over shadow me so much, make me feel so invisible… but it's not all bad!"

The Canadian waved his hands pleadingly, as if the snowman had reprimanded him for being too miserable.

"I mean… there's someone I have a crush on!" The Canadian's cold cheeks impossibly got redder as he admitted it aloud. "But I don't think he knows I exist…."

The violet eyes became downcast once again. "But perhaps that's better? I mean he's a little intimidating. A lot of the other countries are scared of him, but when I play him in hockey he seems pretty normal. Pretty weak actually, I keep creamin' him. To be honest, I think he's just really nice, but doesn't know how to show his emotions…"

The voice trailed off, as if the snowman was interjecting something, before the Canadian replied, "I'm not delusional eh! It's just sometimes he just looks like he really needs a hug or something! Sometimes I like to think that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to understand me…"

Violet eyes looked shyly away, as of admitting that was part of the deepest part of his soul, laid bare for the first time for prying eyes.

The shadows had grown longer, as the sun travelled down into the west, the hours of the day shortened.

The Canadian however, did not notice, as he continued to talk to the snow man, spilling out all his thoughts and feelings, as if the other were some sort of diary. A journal never to be read.

Words shortened, and became more slow as the dark tendrils of night fully enveloped the pair, the bright stars like pin pricks in black fabric, letting in small mistaken chances of light.

And slowly, as if someone decided to shine a flashlight underneath the cloth, the northern lights began to dance.

Violet eyes contentedly looked up at the sky, the words finally falling silent, mesmerised by the slither of ever changing atmosphere

And silently, the eyes closed, sleep overcoming the Canadian like a well invited guest.

When he awoke, to the soft twittering of birds in the green boughs of the prickly trees, and the low scurrying of the rodents in the pukak layer, the Canadian rolled over, to say good morning to his snowy friend, the words choking in his throat as he realized that there was a reason why he didn't feel so cold anymore.

The carrot stood up proudly, a monument to the man that had once been. Eyes were misshapen amongst a decidedly crooked mouth that barely resembled any sort of expression now.

Sitting up, the other couldn't believe his eyes. But he had just built it! There was a cold snap! How could things have gotten so warm so quickly? Without him noticing it?

Wet fingers pawed at the earth, attempting to salvage the mushy snow, re roll it into the manufactured friend, the snow uselessly sliding through them.

Hot trails rolled down the Canadian's face, an awkward strangled sound coming from his throat, before angrily, the cold fingers dashed away the tears.

"Stupid for crying over a snow man," came the angry words, as the Canadian stood up and stretched, attempting to be nonchalant about the entire situation, ignoring the heavy feeling of loneliness within as he began to walk away.

Footsteps led away, the red toque splashed out in the middle like a blood-laden heart, forgotten in the snow.


End file.
